


fortis est ut mors dilectio

by intoxicatelou



Series: tuesnight: the eighth day of the week [7]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Pining, Undercover - Undercover as a Couple brings out Feelings, wedding vows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:08:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23802850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intoxicatelou/pseuds/intoxicatelou
Summary: Standing at the church altar in his graduation suit with the red-eyed cult priest staring at him in a room full of weird cult people, Peter seriously can’t believe his life. Any minute now, Tony Stark will be walking down the aisle. To marry Peter. Because apparently that’s what saving the world looked like today.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Series: tuesnight: the eighth day of the week [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1713367
Comments: 7
Kudos: 130
Collections: What Fen Do (Instead of Going Outside), When Death Loves Flamingos





	fortis est ut mors dilectio

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tuesnight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesnight/gifts).



> comments and kudos very appreciated! this is extremely sappy, I apologize in advance for the feelings.
> 
> thank you to aohatsu for being the best beta ever and praising my vow-writing skills <3
> 
> *re-dated for reveals*

> Hear me out. Do not turn away. 
> 
> I have learned much in my life
> 
> from books and out of them
> 
> about love. Death is not
> 
> the end of it.

— William Carlos Williams 

+

When Peter wakes up, lips brushing the hinge of Mr. Stark’s jaw, he’s sure he’s dreaming. It takes him a second to remember why he can’t just lean up to kiss the man when he hears their comms quietly beep from where they’re hidden between the bedframe and the wall. 

Peter sighs, angling his hips away from Mr. Stark’s still sleeping form before deciding to get out of bed altogether. By the time he’s done brushing his teeth and efficiently jerking off in the shower, Mr. Stark’s clearly just woken up, the imprint of the pillow still fresh on the side of his face. 

“You’re up early,” Mr. Stark yawns as he gets out of bed and stretches. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” Peter says, trying to ignore how Mr. Stark’s boxers clung to his ass as he moved, tighter than he remembers them being when they’d crawled into bed last night, fatigued after a day of socializing with other couples. He swallows quietly, “Today being the big day and all.” 

“Don’t tell me you’ve got wedding day jitters, Mr. Parker,” Mr. Stark jokes, but his eyes are kind when he says, “Seriously kid, don’t sweat it. You’ll do great and it’ll be over before you even know it.” 

Peter reads between the lines. As long as they got through the vows and signaled SHIELD at the right time, the mission would be a success. And then Peter could go home and do his best to forget the weekend he spent playing fiancé to his long-term crush. 

“Thanks Mr — _Tony,_ ” Peter corrects himself, for the sake of the mission. “You’re right, I’ll be fine,” he lies, giving Mr. Stark — _Tony_ — an empty smile. 

+

Standing at the church altar in his graduation suit with the red-eyed cult priest staring at him in a room full of weird cult people, Peter seriously can’t believe his life. Any minute now, Tony Stark will be walking down the aisle. To marry Peter. Because apparently that’s what saving the world looked like today. 

He tries not to think too hard about the slight weight of the gold ring in his pocket, about the Tom Ford suit that Mr. Stark had definitely bought for just this occasion. About how, in a few minutes, Peter will have to tell Mr. Stark that he loves him and pretend like he hasn’t dreamed of this exact moment a hundred times before because, despite the wedding bells and whistles, none of this is real. 

That’s the whole problem really, and exactly why Peter shouldn’t have let Mr. Stark talk him into this to begin with. Peter doesn’t typically do low-risk surveillance missions. SHIELD only called him in when they needed additional help fighting their way out of danger or physically restraining the bad guys. But apparently Mr. Stark had thought it would be a good idea, given the nature of the brief, to bring a partner.

“Are you serious?” Peter had blurted out in the lab when Mr. Stark had asked if he was free this weekend, casually explaining the details of their fake marriage. Because clearly, there was no way to infiltrate a magic cult sacrificing new weds without playing the part. 

“Kid, it was either you or some random SHIELD agent, and you know how I feel about random SHIELD agents,” Mr. Stark shrugged, pulling up the nanotech file schematic for their current project, not looking at Peter.

 _If only I knew how you felt about me, too,_ Peter thought, before schooling his features, nodding as if going undercover as Tony Stark’s fiance was no big deal. “Sure, Mr. Stark, whatever you need.”

It was almost worth it for how he looked up then and ran his fingers through Peter’s hair, smiling. “I knew I could count on you, Peter.” 

The last couple months, Peter wondered and waited for Mr. Stark to bring up the unspoken thing blooming between them — the soft stares and touches which lingered just a moment too long now that they were both alive, healthy, and _single._ Sure, Peter had a couple flings his freshman and sophomore year, but he was graduating Columbia in a few months and could admit that nobody could hold a candle to Mr. Stark. There were some days where Peter felt like Mr. Stark saw him the same way, but there were just as many days where Peter doubted if the older man saw him as anything other than the kid he’d asked to fight with him in Germany all those years ago. 

The uncertainty hurt, but when it came to Mr. Stark, Peter would take whatever he could get. 

Which is the reason Peter is standing here at the altar, heart in his hands, as the wedding march begins to play. 

_Just get through the vows,_ Peter reminds himself as he stares down the aisle, _be cool, be cool, be cool—_

 _Oh god,_ Peter’s jaw drops, _he’s beautiful._ It’s ridiculous really, because he’d already seen the suit this morning in the closet, but it’s a completely different image on Mr. Stark now as he walks down the aisle towards Peter. It’s a classic black pin-stripe number, tailored perfectly, but the thing that really does it for Peter is the pocket square — Iron Man red with a tiny black spider on it. It’s just subtle enough that the weird cult priest won’t catch it, but Mr. Stark must know that Peter, with his enhanced eyesight, definitely will. 

It’s a strangely personal detail for a fake wedding ceremony, but Peter doesn’t have a second to think about it any longer because Mr. Stark is standing in front of him, taking Peter’s hands in his own. 

“Hi,” Mr. Stark says, softly. He runs a thumb over Peter’s knuckles and Peter gives him a small smile.

“SILENCE!” the cult priest screams, before he begins his invocation. “Dear members of _Mors Dilectio,_ we are gathered here today to celebrate with Anthony Edward and Peter Benjamin as they proclaim their love in front of our holy congregation. We are gathered to rejoice in their eternal and sacred commitment. I will now say a few words on the sanctity of marriage. The immeasurable importance of a union —”

Peter zones out as the priest drones on about a million reasons why saying _I do_ is no easy feat. Peter didn’t naturally think about love in regard to weddings and marriages, mostly because he’d been too young to ever remember his parents and when he’d been old enough to be interested in Aunt May’s wedding video, Uncle Ben had suddenly died. But of course, kids at school talked and Peter’s watched _Mamma Mia_ too many times to count, so eventually he’d dreamt of the kind of person he’d be willing to have and to hold no matter what. 

Tony Stark had been Peter’s ideal for a number of things, and while his relationship track record wasn’t exactly the best according to the tabloids, Peter had never once hesitated in dreaming of a world in which he could call Iron Man his husband. 

Of course, it was a teenage crush to begin with, like all things are. Peter knew about love, but he’d never been _in love_ before. Unlike his teenaged peers, Peter didn’t have any of the typical signs of falling in love. There were no romantic dates or instagrammable moments. (Happy wouldn’t have let him post anything even if he’d wanted to.) There were no obvious declarations or anniversaries (though when Peter turned seventeen, Tony _had_ let him fly the Iron Man suit). 

So while Peter knew he cared for Mr. Stark, he didn’t know he was _in love_ with the man until it was too late, his throat full of ash before he could even begin to get the words out. 

By the time the funeral rolled around, Peter had no doubt he was in love with Tony Stark. Only love could have driven him to spend two years researching and obsessing over resurrection and infinity stones and what the universe believed about sacrifice. Only love could have finally, with a little luck and Dr. Strange’s help, let him bring Mr. Stark back. 

When it came to Mr. Stark, Peter had learned love was nothing short of a miracle. Peter couldn’t calculate the infinity of things that had had to happen exactly the way they were supposed to happen in order for him to stand here in front of the man he loves, both of them alive and safe. 

“ _Peter_ ,” Mr. Stark’s voice snaps him out of his reverie. Peter looks up and sees one very angry priest glaring at him. 

“Um, could you repeat just that last part again?” Peter asks, meekly. 

“As per _Mors Dilectio,_ every couple must write their vows, as it is only with these words that you can express your binding promises to love, honor, and cherish one another. _If you are ready_ to make these promises to each other, I invite you now to face each other and declare your intentions. Are you _ready_ , Peter?” The priest hisses the last part at Peter, clearly not beyond making this personal. 

“Y-Yes, I’m ready,” Peter stutters out, and god, this is the one part he _cannot_ mess up. The brief had made it clear how important the vows were — that’s when the energy signature in the church began to spike on SHIELD’s devices. The working theory was that the cult leaders were using the spoken vows to perform dark magic in the basement, trading the souls of those who are newly married so they could get eternal life. The whole reason Peter and Mr. Stark were sent in was to trigger the process so that SHIELD could catch the leaders of _Mors Dilectio_ red-handed. 

It’s almost as if Mr. Stark can sense the panic running through his brain, because he squeezes Peter’s palm in comfort before saying, “Actually, can I go first?”

The priest turns to glare at Mr. Stark now. “Custom dictates the younger partner must —”

“Pardon my french here, but fuck custom,” Mr. Stark sasses and Peter realizes he’s buying him some time. “If anything, I should go first because I fell in love with the kid first.” 

Peter knows that’s a lie, because there’s no way _Tony Stark_ could’ve fallen in love with him first. He didn’t even know Peter existed until like he was fifteen. Not that it matters. It’s not like Mr. Stark actually felt that way about him anyway. 

Peter stares at his feet, waiting for the priest to yell again. 

Except that he doesn’t. The priest actually looks surprised. “Usually we assume it is the younger partner who has fallen first and loved longer, but in this case, it seems we were incorrect.” He even goes as far as giving Mr. Stark what Peter can only assume is trying to be a smile. “You may continue.”

“Peter,” Mr. Stark starts, and Peter braces himself, eyes still glued to his poorly shined dress shoes, “unlike the cliché, you came into my life at exactly the wrong time.” 

_I knew it,_ Peter thinks. He can’t believe he thought Mr. Stark would take this seriously, as if he felt the same way —

“I was bruised, battered, betrayed. I’d made choices, most of them bad, and you of all people had no reason to trust me. To do what I asked you to do.” Mr. Stark pauses, squeezes Peter’s hand and Peter lets out a breath, lifting his head to finally look at him. The older man’s eyes are fiercely tender, his entire attention devoted to Peter. It feels almost real. “But you did anyway. You trusted me, no questions asked because kid, you’ve always seen the best in me. And Peter, every day since we met, I’ve been wondering if I’m good enough to be the kind of man to deserve that from you. To deserve your unwavering faith.”

 _You are good enough! How could you not think you aren’t good enough?_ Peter’s brain spins as he processes the guilt in Mr. Stark’s eyes. Well, the guilt and then something _more_ underneath, something Peter is still too afraid to name because there’s no way, _no way_ —

“The truth is, I don’t know if I am. I don’t know if I deserve someone as selfless, brave, and beautiful as you. But what I do know is that I can’t live without you, kid.” Mr. Stark’s voice cracks, and Peter sees a single tear slip from the corner of his eye.

“I knew I couldn't live without you when you told me you didn't want to go.” 

A tremor runs through Mr. Stark’s left-hand and Peter can feel it in his fingers from where he’s still holding onto him. Peter wishes he could find the words to tell him that he didn’t have to say this, not if it _hurt_ so much, but Mr. Stark continues to talk, plowing ahead. 

“I know I’ll probably never forgive myself for the years I lost with you, that I’ll spend the rest of my life apologizing and trying to fix things that don’t really need to be fixed and there are a million reasons why this might be my worst idea yet, but I can’t deny the way you make me feel, Peter, because _I love you.”_ Tony’s voice shakes, raw and honest, and something inside Peter slides loose, crashes to the floor, breaks into an ocean of gold. 

_You love me, you love me, you love me._

Peter’s heart flutters and he doesn’t need the weird cult priest to ask him if he’s ready this time to answer Mr. St — _Tony._ He just opens his mouth and starts to talk. “Tony, I remember I love you every time you correct me about what qualifies as an 'old movie'.” 

Tony laughs at that, despite the tears fresh in his eyes. Peter gives him a small grin.

“I remember I love you every time you forget to sleep or eat or hydrate because you’re too busy trying to save the world with one of your brilliant ideas. I remember I love you when we’re arguing about Star Wars or quantum mechanics or why you should definitely be nicer to your robots.” Tony rolls his eyes at the last one, affectionate. But Peter’s already made up his mind — if he ever got to _actually_ marry Tony Stark, Dum-E was going to be the ring bearer, no way around it. 

“I remember I love you every time you push me to be better. I remember I love you every time I think about the day we lost.” Peter swallows tears at the memory of ash, still so poignant even after all this time. He continues, “and every time I think about the day we won. ” 

Peter takes a shuddering breath, remembering the two long years not knowing if Tony would ever come back. He remembers and can’t imagine how Tony had lived through almost half a decade feeling the same way about Peter. 

Peter stares at Tony dead in the eye, putting every ounce of emotion he felt into his words, words he’d once rehearsed in front of a mirror at sixteen. “Tony, all those years ago when I told you I wanted to be like you, you told me that you wanted me to be better. And I don’t know if I'm the man you've always dreamed of me being, but I know right now, standing in front of you, that the only reason I’m better than that kid on the rooftop all those years ago is that today, I get a chance at loving you.” 

“If you’ll have me, Tony,” Peter’s eyes are blurry, but he pushes through, “I’d like to try at being a better man with you.” 

Peter’s seen a lot of things in his life, but this moment is a first. Tony is looking at him, completely speechless. Not that he needs to say anything because Peter can read the _yes_ clear in his eyes. 

Tony’s thumb brushes against the inside of Peter’s wrist, and for a moment, they both just look at each other, the mission a background hum to what had clearly just happened. After years, they’d finally talked about it. That unspoken thing. Except now it had a name. _Love._

 _I love him, he loves me,_ Peter’s so giddy he almost misses the priest call for the rings. Luckily, Tony interrupts the priest just in time, despite the dopey grin he’s got on his face. 

“Actually, about the rings, we brought our own,” Tony says, pulling out a golden ring from his pocket and Peter does the same. “Poison-free gold. Can you imagine?”

The wedding crowd gasps. If the priest had been enraged before, he’s absolutely livid now. “This is blasphemy! Rule 18.3 in the code of _Mors Dilection_ explicitly dictates —”

“Yeah, we don’t really care what it dictates,” Tony cuts in, before placing his right hand out to Peter. “Also, if it wasn’t obvious kid, I do.” 

Peter sticks out his right hand out for Tony, smiling as he says, “I do too, Mr. St- Tony.”

They’re both grinning like idiots as they slide the rings on each other’s fingers, giving the SHIELD agents surrounding the church the signal to come inside and take care of business. 

+

“We’re clearly a power couple,” Tony hums as he pulls Peter to the side while most of their so-called wedding party are hand-cuffed and processed. The angry priest had been the first to face SHIELD’s wrath and was safely locked away in the back of one of their many vans. “Fury should give us an award, we’ve been husbands for like an hour and already defeated a magic cult.”

Peter laughs. It’s a little ridiculous, but he doesn’t fight when Tony’s hands drop to his hips, pulling Peter flush against Tony. “You know that we’re not actually married right?” Peter murmurs, looking up at Tony through his eyelashes. 

“Well not yet anyway, we missed the most important step.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes, Mr. Parker,” Tony whispers, tipping Peter’s face up with his finger, his breath warm against Peter’s lips, “you may now kiss the groom.”

  
  



End file.
